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last night i interviewed dan colen for aron’s new book magazine magabook bookazine whatever. it was awesome! i was… nervous to say the least, but theres nothing a lot of whiskey won’t fix. look for in in the next few weeks!!!

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these are random dan studio phots. he just sent 4 more boulders to berlin! awesome

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this opens tonight! as in in 3hours or so
“this” is Michel Gondry show. horay! its actualy great. come over i will smuggle you some champagne upstairs.

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i fucking love Qbert floors

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that says MANDRAKE (mandragora officinarm)
and did you know if you pulled a mandrake(whose root looks like a forked human torso) out of the ground, it screams like a man? it also makes you go crazy.
says shakespeare.
they have one up at the cloisters if anyone is interested

speaking of: this is the passage that i got both the title (stifled in the vault) and the critical approach (madly playing with forefather’s joints) for my andy warhol essay. it also mentions mandrakes:

What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister’d to have me dead,
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour’d,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man.
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there’s a fearful point!
Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like,
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place,–
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are packed:
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort;–
Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
And shrieks like mandrakes’ torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:–
O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefather’s joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman’s bone,
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
O, look! methinks I see my cousin’s ghost
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
Upon a rapier’s point: stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

the title of this post is part of the scene where kent is insulting whoever goneril’s page dude was called. osric? no thats hamlet wait OSWALD. it’s part of the best collection of inspired insulting that ever was written! in this one bit he goes “Thou whoreson zed, thou unecessary letter!” which is essially going “you letter Z! you superflous part of the alphabet!”

i mean, ?????


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we still need someone to carry ESPO’s inflatalimo, someone to dress up like a huge fat ballerina thing, someone to wear a balloon costume, etc etc. matt siegle is going to be a huge Ted Mineo eyeball!!!! horay!

thats it. sorry this blog is such a pile. this is what i have to work with tho:

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Author: admin

I am the owner of downtown contemporary art center THE HOLE! I am arts editor at i-D magazine I paint paintings and curate art shows all around

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